Arrrggg! That blasted password! For as long as I’ve paraded my technological ineptness, I’ve been cursed by the password, that brilliant invention designed to help people along but now behaves like a bank vault.

Seriously, does a password ever do anything but prevent the user — the poor sap who paid good money for the computer — from gaining access?

Wouldn’t it be great if we could come up with a single password for each application: for getting mail, for doing financial transactions, for playing games, for getting into Facebook?

As a solution, how about a game we used to play — I can’t recall its name, if it ever had one — but we called it “Getting Warmer.” Generally we kids would hide something from a classmate at Immaculate Conception School. It was fun until our homeroom teacher, Sister Mary Te Pego, deemed that the game was cruel and took advantage of others.

Simply, we’d wait until a student left an item unattended: a textbook, a notebook, a pen, a marble or a freshly pocketed frog. When the student returned, puzzled and worried that one of us had copped the item, we’d say we’re playing “Getting Warmer.”

Then the search started: The student would walk around the classroom, and we would say, “getting warmer” or, if the student were far from the quest, “freezing.”

One of the conditions was that if the searcher were physically close to the object but didn’t search actively, the temp would cool. So it was possible for the object to go from “getting warmer” to “absolutely freezing” without doing anything. The game was fun, especially for those who hid other kids’ stuff.

Why, then can’t computer passwords work the same way? Why can’t our laptops give us clues? In my experience, the only definitive message my computer delivers is “Incorrect Password.” And as further punishment, if I’ve taken too many stabs at the password, it tells me so — and locks me out.

Here’s what often happens:

To get into an application, I need to supply a password. What’s that? It’s a word-number combination that users feed into the computer, something others won’t figure out.

Here’s a crack-proof password! Oh, too short? Madam Laptop says it must be at least six characters.

Done!

Not so fast: It must have a capital.

Still won’t let me in? Oh, I see. I used a similar password during the era when the great Coronado built his bridge. OK, I’ll change it to a book I’ve read recently. Done!

I just read, “Go Set a Watchman.” It’s kind of a sequel too “To Kill a Mockingbird.” No, the original book title is not “Tequila Mockingbird.” And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the humor to me.

Sorry. But now you insist I include at least one number? Here goes: 7. Still not there. When will I ever get there? Can you let me in just once — on the honor system? I’m the only one who uses this machine and it’s mine. Really! I can teach you the rudiments of “Getting Warmer” and maybe you could tell me if I’m getting closer to the right password. It’s demeaning, ya know, for you to reject every effort I make without explaining if I’m on the right track.

Still no access. Darn!

The next time, my password is going to be MickeyMouseBarneyFifeBugsBunnyJeffersonCityThumbPinkie7.com.

Look, Madam Web Administrator, I’m only following directions. You insisted I have at least three characters. There they are! Haven’t you ever heard of Walt Disney or watched TV?

Then you demanded a capital. It’s there, in the middle of the Show-Me State, and you ask for too digits. Do Thumb and Pinkie suffice?

Arrrggg. I’m still locked out. Maybe I’ll recruit my family’s new teenaged exchange students, Ana Granados and Phaedra Wouters, to pull me out of this morass.

In fairness to the jailers who prevent my access to my own data, there are different applications that purport to store all that information. I just now glanced into a file of such a collection and discovered I have perhaps 75 passwords, some for bank accounts, some for newspapers, some for games.

How can one person recall all those alphanumeric passwords? Yes, I’ve written them down, but that still doesn’t help.

Sometimes — I kid you not — passwords I’ve used for years fail to work. Just this week I received a notice from Tivo, explaining that the account for this program, which allows users to record various TV programs weeks in advance and store them indefinitely, needs too be fed again. Apparently my debit card expires soon.

So like a good customer, I attempted to provide my new number. But it wanted a password first. Years ago, when I started receiving hundreds of unwanted emails, I changed not only my user name but the password as well.

Now, the Tivo people don’t believe me. Is there a phone number I can call to settle my account the old-fashioned way? Naturally not.

• • •

My son, Stanley Adam, sent a post showing an angry, bearded man saying, “The number of people who don’t know the difference between to and too is two damn high.”

Here’s a chance to explain the difference in terms you’ve heard all your life. “Two” doesn’t seem to be much of a problem. I just think of the two loops in the “w” of that word and remember it that way.

The “to” and “too” problem is a bit different. Rather than try to explain that “‘to’ is a preposition,” etc., I put it this way:

People don’t always pronounce “to” with a “t.” In much speech, we say “tuh” or even “duh,” as in “I like tuh swim,” or “Let’s go duh town,” or they elide it, as in “Wanna dance?”

Now that you know that “too” and “to” don’t even sound alike, you’ve solved that simple source of confusion.

• • •

Why is gas $1.98 in Santa Fe, and about $2.39 here?